


predawn glow

by nativemossy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, ish?, like super light lmao, v light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 20:17:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10670016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nativemossy/pseuds/nativemossy
Summary: He had expected it to be loud, entirely too messy and more than a bit overwhelming, but it seemed all his careful consideration and cautious advancements were for naught.





	predawn glow

          It was calm, and quiet.

          Not to say that it usually wasn’t, Keiji was entirely too used to the quiet. During these wee hours of the morning, where the only noise he could hear was his breathing and the barely-there snores of the man who slept beside him.

          It truly was different, living with Koutarou. He had expected it to be loud, entirely too messy and more than a bit overwhelming, but it seemed all his careful consideration and cautious advancements were for naught. Bokuto Koutarou, outside of the court, was an extremely gentle man. He gazed at the world around him with unrestrained joy and child-like wonder, and could at times get carried away.

          However, when he looked at Keiji, when he leveled that golden gaze directly upon him, Keiji was truly helpless. Those eyes had seen him completely, seen all of the beautiful moments, soft expressions and sweet nothings shared between the two of them. Those eyes had also seen all the bad, ugly things Keiji tried to hide. The biting jealousy, the ugly fear that someday their focus would find another center, one with a shine to match theirs.

          When he touched Keiji, it was like Koutarou was handling a treasure. He handled Akaashi delicately, his face held gently between two rough palms, his hand cradled in another. He showed his affection not in grandiose displays, but in the small gestures. A hand on the small of his back, a thumb circling his knuckles, a hug from behind and a nose in his hair all were commonplace with Koutarou.

          His words were always fond, never biting or harsh. Even when angry, he never spoke to injure, kept his voice low and his meaning plain. In times like these he made his movements slow and soft, making sure that even as he communicated his anger and frustration that he also made sure Keiji was safe, that he felt safe with Koutarou and in the home they had made together.

          Every touch, every expression, every word was laced with the love that Koutarou had for Keiji, and the younger man was truly humbled to be the recipient of such a gift.

          He felt at times he didn’t deserve it, that he should push Koutarou away until he can see that he’s making a mistake, at least try to make him understand. Keiji doesn’t show his affection with every word, every motion, every fibre in his body. He feels it, oh yes, he loves Koutarou more than he can describe, but for all that he wholly and truly loves him he cannot express it.

          Compared to what he receives, he never feels like he’s giving enough.

          He tries, he tries to put a little more force into his hugs, a little more feeling into his kisses, a little bit of himself into every gesture but it’s not _easy_. He wasn’t raised to be this affectionate, was never taught how to truly communicate physically, and the casual touch that seems to come naturally to Koutarou has never been native to him.

          As he now gazes down on Koutarou’s sleeping form, he thinks he’s beginning to understand just how he manages to be so fierce and so gentle at once.

          Koutarou’s form is relaxed, free from the tension of everyday life. His mouth is slightly open, his face completely lax. Keiji can just about see the beginnings of crow’s feet near the corners of his eyes, earned from years of incessant grins. His chest rises and falls in a relaxing rhythm, his breathing even and deep. The pre-dawn light softens his face, takes the angles of his jaws and the crags of old scars and blurs them out, turning Koutarou into something that more closely matches the ideal version that exists within Keiji’s head.

          This is the face of the Koutarou that has the perfect solution to every emotional problem Keiji may have. This is the face of the Koutarou that understands him completely, the face of the only man who knows him completely and entirely. This is the face of the Koutarou who is there to fight all the demons that Keiji can’t. 

          Be that as it may, Keiji knows that this is not the Koutarou he fell in love with. The Koutarou that is his doesn’t always know what to do. His Koutarou doesn’t always have the answer, and he certainly doesn’t know Keiji better than he knows himself. And yet, Keiji is more than ok with that.

          He fell in love with the Koutarou that was patient, that was kind. He fell in love with the Koutarou that knew when he had reached his limit, told him that it was ok to stop, that it was ok to care for yourself. He fell in love with the Koutarou who got into a screaming match with his father the day he left, with the Koutarou who stormed in to collect Keiji’s possessions even with his father launching abuse towards him. He fell in love with the Koutarou who fell in love with him.

          Keiji reached out his hand, making every attempt to mirror the gentleness of the man beside him, and buried it within the soft locks atop his head, reveling in the ungelled texture. His thumb rubbed slow circles as the man sighed, and leaned into the touch, his eyes flickering open slowly. The golden gaze flicked up, resting gently upon Keiji, centering fully and entirely on him. He tensed minutely, but those observant eyes saw all. He hoped his own pleaded forgiveness, though he didn’t know what for.

          He saw a reply reflected in the eyes across from him. It wasn’t anything he could put into words, but it was something reassuring, something wholesome and entirely _Koutarou_. It felt like home, and it was comforting and overwhelming all at once. Almost as if Koutarou understood, he smiled, small and sincere, and closed his eyes, leaning into Keiji’s hand once more.

          Keiji’s racing thoughts stopped for a moment, centered on the man who sat so vulnerably before him. He forced his finger to move once more, no longer lazy but purposefully just as light.

          As the sun began to rise, lighting the room in its golden rays, Keiji began to think that maybe he could begin to learn to love like Koutarou, even if it meant beginning with something so small.

**Author's Note:**

> wow ok??? so i literally just cranked this out after quitting fanfic cold turkey for like 3 years lmao.
> 
> be gentle i am so very tired
> 
> talk at me on tungle


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